Morning Coffee
by liz012014
Summary: What's a girl to do when asked to think before she's had her morning fix?


            Claire woke with a mild headache that informed her she'd been a little too liberal with her routine evening glass of wine.  She groaned softly at her overindulgence.  It was going to be one of those days.  Maybe if she stretched very slowly the little hammer in her skull would pound with less strength.  One arm, now the other.  Good.  Now for the legs.  First this one, then that…  "Bloody hell!"  Her leg connected with a warm body.  A male voice answered her sudden attack with a sleepy moan.  Claire opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling as she desperately tried to remember how she'd gotten so trashed and whom she'd ended up in bed with.  

There had been a party.  Yes, yes, they were celebrating the end of quicksilver madness.  Darien had been there and Bobby.  Eberts and the Official.  It wasn't Eberts or the Official.  She was drunk, not crazy.  That left the boys.  Claire turned her head to assess the situation.  "Aw crap!"  Her voice came out a whisper.  Carefully, Claire slid from the bed and made a mad dash for her bathroom.  At least it was her house.  Once inside, she quietly shut the door.

After grabbing a bathrobe, Claire gathered her courage and turned to face the mirror.  "How do you let yourself get into these situations?"  Her frustration spilt into her whispered words and she mentally shrugged in answer.  Might as well get this over with.  Maybe she could slip downstairs and make some coffee.  At least with coffee they would be able to handle this as two rational adults rather then the barely articulate lump she currently felt like. 

Slowly, Claire opened the door and peeked her head out.  From her position, she could just make out the human-shaped lump in her bed.  Good.  He hadn't woken up while she was gone and made a run for it.  That certainly wouldn't have been very sporting of him.  Confidence growing, she stepped from her hiding place and out into the room.  As she did so, she took a quick glance at the bed.  Then did a double take.  Two anxious brown eyes studied her from beneath the edge of a pillow.

"Did we do what I think we did?"

Claire nodded, unable to form words.  If only she had her coffee.  Coffee made everything better.

"How much trouble are we in?"

She took a breath.  She could do this, converse.  She had multiple doctoral degrees, damn it.  Conversation should be easy.  "I don't know."  Could you be more vague, Claire?  Wait, why should I know?  "How could I?"  She scowled briefly and walked across the room.  Coffee.  "I'm going to make some coffee?  We should talk about this."  

He nodded.  "I'll grab a quick shower."  He quickly matched actions to words.

Claire went downstairs to the kitchen and started her long awaited coffee.  Just when everything was starting to work out, make sense, it had to go and fall apart again.  That was it.  The universe was out to get her.  The aroma of fresh coffee made its way to her and Claire inhaled deeply, attempting to relax. 

What seemed like only moments later, she heard heavy feet thudding down the stairs.  She heard Pavlov greet the owner of said feet.  Then he greeted her.  "Hey."

"Hey."  I should look at him.  Eye contact and all.

"Claire, about what happened…"  Great.  He doesn't know how to start this conversation either.  Now what?

"Maybe we should just pretend it didn't happen.  We can just go on as we always do."  I hope he takes this the right way.  "I don't want to lose your friendship."

"I don't want to."

WHAT?!!!  "Excuse me?"  That certainly came out a lot more calmly than I feel.

"I don't want to forget it."

Silence.  Sound of jaw hitting linoleum.  "I don't understand."

"What's to understand?"  No, don't give me that look.  I hate that look.  "Claire, I think…."  He takes a deep breath.  "I think I'm sort of in love with you."

More silence.  "Wow."  Nice one, Claire.  Way to show off those long and expensive years of education.

He grins, tentative.  "Well?"

Kiss him, you idiot.  He's getting that sad look that says he's a heartbeat away from closing himself off and leaving mentally, if not physically.  It's not hard.  Lean in, touch his lips with yours.

Claire kissed him gently and pulled back.  "Answer enough?"

He nods.  Good, he's as articulate as I am without his morning coffee.  Maybe this will work after all.


End file.
